Changes In The Dark
by Grenniffin
Summary: American witch, Peregrin Weasley is sent with her brother and little sister to live with her cousins. Once she meets Harry Potter, they connect in a... weird way.


** I have thought about this story for a month. I just had to get it down! I hope you enjoy it! Please review it, I love reading all of your comments.**

**I hope no one is offended by the way I've portrayed America in this. I myself am American, so... I took some liberty in this.**

**Have fun!**

* * *

I believe that since I was born, since I drew my first breath, this moment was completely mapped out. The smell of sulfur. The ringing in my ears. The feeling of gravel crunching underneath my sneakers. Holding a wand that felt like a twenty ton cement rod.

Everything around me moved in slow motion like some chaotic ballet. Bright flashes of blues and greens highlighting and low lighting the lifts of bodies being tossed backward by explosions and the dips of people falling from great and simple heights. Cries of pain and anger ring out from people whose lives are slipping from their fingertips.

I see him. I'm running at full speed. Profanity spills from my lips. His black cloak whips around him and a calm smile stains his face. I hate him. He is the reason my school is in ruins. He is the reason I am here. That bastard is the reason my family-

A pulse of power explodes from his wand. Pain.

* * *

My name is Peregrin. Full name, Peregrin Gemwise Weasley. I was 14 years old when I was sent to live with my cousins in the UK. I have... had a brother named Griffin aged 16... at the time, and a baby sister, Meriadda, aged 3 at the time. My father Aaron Weasley, 40, worked for the USMAF, the United States Magically Armed Forces. He moved from the United Kingdom when he was younger to help set up relations between the two countries, but when he met my mother, Esther, 36, he simply never left.

We lived on the fringes of Washington, D.C. in a house that proclaimed our luxurious lifestyle. The dining room was the third biggest room in the house, decorated in light blues and a dark mahogany table. The day we left my father stayed home to eat breakfast with us. I used to get up early and eat with him while he got ready for work, but that day we slept in, however we were still the first two down for breakfast.

"What happens if I don't like these relatives?" My father's eyes peered over his morning news paper at me, one eyebrow cocked. I heard him sigh and turn a page.

"If you don't like them, Pippin, you have my permission to run off and join a circus." A quiet chuckle escaped me. I loved my father. We were exactly the same; sense of humor, intelligence, attitude. The only characteristics I lacked were the physical ones. His rusted red hair and freckled complexion vastly contrasted my brown hair and clear skin. I looked just like my mother; loosely curled dark hair, dull grey eyes, curvy- even at 14, around 5'3''. My brother and sister were spitting images of my father, freckles and all.

"I want to go with you and mother." I looked up from my plate of pancakes and eggs with a painful expression on my face. My father folded his paper, laying it across his lap, and leaned into the table.

"Pippin," His whispering voice was firm and calm. " Please try to make the best of your situation. You're enrolled at Hogwarts, the best wizarding school in England. This will give you a chance to connect with your family."

I nodded reluctantly and looked back down at my food, prodding it with my fork.

"Look at me." The strange forceful tone made me snap my head up quickly.

"I need you to understand that there are things that people do in this life that you won't be able to explain. You have to believe me, Peregrin, that it's for your own good."

My eyebrows creased as I narrowed my eyes at him questioningly. What did he mean? I opened my mouth to raise my suspicion, but was cut short my Griffin walking through the door with a plate piled with food.

"What are you two whispering about?" His deep voice teased. He pulled a seat up next to mine and took a deep drink from my glass of orange juice. My father relaxed in his chair, unfolding his paper and crossing an ankle on the opposite knee.

"Planing your death." His eyes from his paper to my brother's plate as he gestured toward it with his head. "Eat your eggs."

* * *

I took a deep breath and looked at my reflection in the mirror that hung from the closet door in my bedroom. My grey jacket was fully unzipped, revealing my wand. The smooth black shaft felt like silk on my fingertips. I remembered once that my father had told me that British witches and wizards used wands made from wood and the feathers and hairs of magical creatures. My wand was something of beauty. Eleven inches made from polished phenix bone with an emerald that was fixed on top of it. American wands seem inhumane, but really wandmakers travel deep into forests to find dead or dying creatures. The jewel that glowed every time a spell was cast was a trademark of the Everlock Family Wands, the oldest wandmaking family in America. Making the wands out of bone ensured that they would not break easily under heavy use.

I took my wand out of its place in my jacket and brushed the surface against the soft skin of my cheek. Memories rushed into my head. My father had taken me to get my wand when I was 9 years old. It was always special when we got our wands. Father would pull us out of our classes and take us to a nice lunch before quenching our excitement by finally letting us go to whatever wand store we wanted. Getting a wand was like getting a new cellphone to non magical people, only twice as useful and expensive. We walked into the beautiful shop on Merlin Drive, my hand tightened on my father's so much that he had to literally pry it off of his.

"Your wand has already chosen you." He smiled as I walked along the side of the store, gazing and lusting over every jewel encrusted staff. "The wand choses the witch, Pippin. We just have to find it."

After an hour of searching, I had given up hope of ever finding _my_ wand. I had broken two light bulbs, three lamps, and a display case trying out wands. I plopped down on a sofa they had in the store for parents that were waiting on their children. Sadness washed out my entire being. Father sat beside me and pulled me close to him.

"Let's try another store tomorrow, Pip, what do you say?"

Nodding in agreement was the only thing I could do without bursting into tears. Griffin had found his wand on the first try. Returning home without one would be the salt to my gaping emotional wound.

"Sir." The young female attendant that had been watching me fail to bond with a wand over and over again walked toward us. She held a long, dark green wand box that was covered with dust from years of neglect. "We do have one more wand. It, um, hasn't been claimed... yet."

The girl lifted up the lid of the old, exhausted box and displayed the contents to me. The moment my eyes hit the gorgeous object, my heart stopped. Reflexively, I reached out and touched the shining rod. It was smoother than the satin it laid upon. I took the wand in my hand; electricity chased a rabbit through my veins causing me to shiver. The emerald topper shown bright green, illuminating my over joyed expression.

"You see, Pippin." Father patted my head. "It's waited so long for you. This is a loyal wand, this is."

And it had been. My wand. _My_ loyal wand.

* * *

"Peregrin, you go first and take my bag." I gazed over at my mother, Meriadda wriggling in her arms. "Please."

I nodded and shrugged my shoulder, hoisting my backpack strap up. My mother's bag swung in the crook of my arm as I drug my luggage to our Floo Port. Since traveling over seas by Floo was so difficult, we were going to meet our family at a central location. Some sort of Alley. Butterflies did aerial tricks in my stomach as my father walked toward me with a bowl of the glittering powder.

"Zip up your jacket, Peregrin." My mother called out, false concern in her voice. "It's cold there."

I pulled up the shoulders of my covering and zipped it up a little more before taking a fist full of the powder.

"Clearly now, Pip." My father stood to the side of the port as the rest of my family watched me. I drew a shaky breath and crunched some of the dust in my hand before lifting my head up and clearing my throat.

"Diagon Alley."

* * *

Stepping out of the thin, stone Floo Port opening, I wiped the residual soot off of my hands on to my faded jeans. All at once, I was assaulted with a cold blast of air that penetrated my thin jacket and jeans. Mother was right. It _was_ cold. The Alley was bright and filled with the sounds of families scurrying around. Children weaved in and out of the crowd like they were racing on an obstacle course, stopping to peek in windows and then speeding away again. The shops were old and the architecture looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1700's, but I had expected that. Father told me about the British's loved of preservation instead of innovation.

As I brought my hands up to my mouth to warm them, a sharp crackling sound came from behind me. Two hands clasped my shoulders causing me to turn my head to catch sight of my brother standing behind me. He took Mother's bag from me and swung it over his broad shoulder.

"C'mon Pippin, we're supposed to meet them at a place call The Leaky Cauldron. Mother and Father said to go ahead. They'll catch up."

* * *

Walking through Diagon Alley was like trying to stand against a wave that was coming at you full forced. The people, however, seemed to know exactly where they were going and the quickest way to get there. I latched on to Griffin's muscled forearm as to not get sucked into the violent stream. British babbling is the only thing I could hear as we pushed our way to the doorway of a sketchy looking store front.

"Are you sure this is it, Griffin?" I said through gritted teeth. The chill was beginning to take its toll. Standing still all by ourselves was extremely difficult to bear. I immediately wished I was back in the crowd.

"That's what the sign says." Griffin pushed the door open, revealing an even danker inside. The entire place looked as though it was the set of an old scary movie. The ceilings were high and a staircase to the side of the room made it obvious that the people sitting at the old wooden tables reading books and newspapers resided there. Every inch of the room seemed to be dark. I leaned forward on my tiptoes to take in the entire place, unfortunately the bags wrapped around my arms weighted me down, causing me to fall flat on my face. I heard a snort come from Griffin's direction... which was up.

"Oi!"

I looked up to see a man behind the bar. His face was unbelievably fat and it matched the rest of his grotesque body. A faded white apron seemed to be painted onto his body. The only way I knew it wasn't was because he pulled it up and wiped his thick fingers on it. He waddled out from behind the counter, making his way over to us. As soon as he was about a foot away, I could smell the body odor that seeped from his pores.

"Sorry." Griffin wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me up quickly. "We're looking for our family."

The man eyed Griffin carefully. It seemed as though he was thinking. After a second he turned on his heel and waddled back to his station.

"In the back."

* * *

"Oh dearies! It's about time you arrived!" My Aunt Molly threw her arms around us both. True to the pictures I saw on my father's work desk at home, she was a squat woman with frazzled red hair and half knitted, half patchwork clothing. A man stood behind her closely resembling my father, his hands in his pants' pockets. I immediately recognized him as my Uncle Arthur.

"That's enough, dear, don't want to strangle them of their first day." He walked up and placed his hand on Molly's shoulder, prompting her to release us from her vice grip. "It's good to see the both of you." He extended his hand to Griffin who shook it enthusiastically.

"It's good to be seem."

Molly clapped her hands on my upper arms and looked me up and down.

"We'll have to put some meat on you."

I shivered slightly under her touch, gaining a concerned frown from her. The inn had been no warmer than the outside. She took a long, knitted scarf out of the bag that hung at her side and quickly tied it around my neck. It smelled like Christmas.

"What are you thinking wearing such a thin jacket in this weather? You'll catch your death."

"Thank you, Aunt Molly." I smiled, my voice coming out quietly. She returned the smile and patted my forearm.

"Just Molly, dear."

* * *

We sat in the inn for a while, waiting for Mother and Father. Molly talked about her sons and daughter, my cousins, and how they were at their home waiting for us. I had never been around a big family like that. My mother was an only child and my grandmother and grandfather weren't exactly the friendliest people on earth. I was suddenly excited to be with them.

"Where do you work, Uncle Arthur?" Griffin leaned his chair back on two legs only for it to be pushed forward, bringing the two front legs down with a sharp clap on the stone floor.

"Your Uncle Arthur works for the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle's Artifacts department. All four legs on the floor, Griffin." I looked over and saw my father standing behind Griffin's chair with his hand wrapped around the top of chair back. Griffin's eyebrow raised and I knew he was thinking the exact same thing I was.

"What's a muggle?"

A shocked expression popped up on the faces on my aunt and uncle. Arthur straightened up in his chair and folded his hands on the table like my father would do.

"Non-magic folk." He stated as if we were already supposed to know. My father laughed and pulled out the rickety-looking chair beside Griffin, slowly seating himself.

"These two are definitely in for a shock. In America we don't separate ourselves from the Muggles."

It was true. I had gone to school with Muggles once. They knew I was a witch and it didn't phase them one bit. Witches and Wizards were captain's of industry, scholars, teachers, medical professionals, musicians, authors. We lived next to a Muggle family who invited us for dinner and board games ever other week. I had a crush on their oldest son, Max, but my mother had scolded me for it, saying that her family has been fully magical from its roots and I was not to screw that up.

"Then you must know all about them." A wide grin spread across Arthur's face.

"Uh... Yeah." Griffin nodded. Arthur stood quickly, clapping his hands together.

"Splendid! You'll have to tell me on the way to the Minister's office."

"The Minister's office? I thought we were going to your home." I chimed in.

"You have to be sorted before the school year begins. That will decide what house you'll be in for the rest of your schooling." Molly explained.

A knot twisted in my stomach. Being separated from my brother was the worst thing I could possibly conceive about going to this new school... As you can tell, I was stupidly naive. She reached over and patted my hand gently.

"No need to be nervous, love, I can tell already you're Gryffindor material. All of your cousins were and are in Gryffindor."

A weight seemed to lift off of my shoulders as she reassured me. At least I would be with people I knew.

"That's right." Arthur puffed his chest out, full of pride. "Brave and strong, those Gryffindors are."

Shit. I inwardly slumped. If those were the characteristics of a Gryffindor, I was so screwed.

"So sorry I'm late." My mother's high heels clacking toward us pulled me from my sulking. Meriadda slept soundly in her arms, her head full of orange curls dug into the crook of Mother's neck. I suddenly noticed the stark contrast between my family and the UK Weasley's. My mother was almost a head taller that Molly, her Jessica Simpson heels aiding her tremendously. She was also very physically fit from her morning runs and swims. I could tell Molly was growing increasingly uncomfortable by the moment. Mother's dark, tight curls and neatly pressed, formfitting black pencil skirt and ruffled blouse out shined her wore appearance.

My father wore a his work suit and a tie just like Arthur, but newness of his clothes gave him an advantage. His frame was thinner and slightly taller, but the same goofy smile adorned both of their faces.

In America, we were the Jones' that people tried to keep up with, and it showed here. I felt awkward knowing that I had more money than the adults I was going to be living with. I wondered if I would miss everything I had grown accustomed to.

"Sit up straight, Peregrin."

I jerked up at my mother's command and mentally rolled my eyes. I wouldn't miss that.

* * *

We stood in front of the Floo Port watching my father lift his bag over his shoulder and hug his brother with one arm around the neck.

"We'll see you soon, Arthur."

Arthur hurled his arms around my father's midsection and squeezed.

"Yes we will, Aaron."

Father walked over to Molly, who held onto a frantic Meriadda. He kissed Molly's cheek before kissing his daughter's head.

"Daddy will see you soon, Merry."

This however only made Meriadda strain harder for him. He took the tiny hand that reached so fervently for him and kissed it, saying his goodbye. He turned to Griffin, wrapping his free arm around his shoulders and patting him firmly while kissing the side of his head.

"I'll miss you, son. Take care of your sisters."

I saw my brother nod before patting Father's shoulder as well. Finally he turned his attention to me. He stood in front of me for a moment, assessing my state before dropping the bag he held onto the ground and opening his arms widely. My breath hitched in my throat as reality set in that he was leaving. I quickly closed the gap between us, jumping into his arms and latching mine around his neck. I felt my feet lifting off of the ground as he closed his hands around my waist.

"I love you, Father." I whispered, closing my eyes tightly. I wanted that moment to last. In that moment he was standing right there. He didn't have to leave us. Our family was whole. My heart ripped into two jagged pieces as he pressed one last hard kiss on my temple and replied.

"Stay strong, my Pippin."

He stepped back, picking up his bag. We watched him walk toward the port. He was so tall that he had to dip his head down while stepping in. A handful of powder, a bright green flame, and just like that, he was gone. I looked over to my mother standing awkwardly on the side of our little group. She squared her shoulders and walked to the port.

"Goodbye, everyone." Her smile could have frozen a phenix in the middle of his rejuvenation. She left quickly, as if she couldn't wait to be away from us. The Weasley's made her nervous.

Meriadda's harsh squeal called us back to our situation. Molly shifted the toddler on her hip, whispering soothing words to her and pressing her head to her soft shoulder to sob. Arthur clapped a hand on each of Griffin and I's shoulders and smiled warmly.

"Ready, you two?"

* * *

I could literally see excitement radiate from Griffin as we walked with Arthur. My hands felt as though they were magnetically drawn together. I wrung them as if it was the only thing I knew to do. We stood on the elevator at the Ministry's headquarters. People got on and off, rooms whizzed by us, and I shifted on my feet the entire time. Sweat lubricated my quickly chapping hands and I almost wretched when Arthur slid open the gate that separated us from the hallway.

"We're here."

Slick, black marble made up the walls and floors of the building. We walked at such a fast pace that my sneakers threatened to slip out from under me. Well-dressed men and women were sparsely littering in the hallway and seemed to not even notice us as we sped by. Their low-toned whispers hauntingly floated around the room. I felt as though Griffin and I were dangerously out of place in our 'Muggle' clothing.

Suddenly, Griffin stopped in front of me, causing me to bounce off of his hard back. I grunted angrily and almost said something very rude, but was interrupted by Arthur knocking on a large, black wooden door. There was a muffled 'Come in.' and then the sound of a lock tumbling.

As Arthur opened the door, I noticed that the office was very different from the bleak hallway. Even though a fire roared from behind a large, unnecessarily lavish desk chair, the room was still very dim. Two men stood in the corner beside a large leaning bookcase, their backs to us, seemingly discussing something important. One of the men silenced the other by waving his hand at in the air and turned to us. The man who was silenced swiftly moved across the room to us. I found it strange that he would wear his bowler hat indoors. His features were very tired, his eyes plagued with dark circles. The other man looked elderly. His long white beard reached the belt of his dark purple robes. Our eyes locked. An intensity flowed from him that made my chest tighten. His eyes seemed to penetrate my mind.

"Professor Dumbledore. Minister." Arthur called out. Suddenly the man's features softened into a peaceful smile. "This is Griffin and Peregrin. My nephew and niece from America."

The man with the hat stood with his hands behind his back, a strained smile across his face. He extended his hand, first to Griffin and then to me.

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

He gave my hand one firm shake before letting go and returning his to its original position behind his back. He leaned his head to the elderly man and smiled once more.

"This is Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward gracefully.

"A brunette Weasley," amusement twinkled in his eye, "Now, I've seen it all."

A nervous smile surfaced on my face. My hands were working overtime.

"Fear not, Young Peregrin, every House in Hogwarts is prestigious in its own right. All though your family record might be foreshadowing."

The Minister cleared his throat and motioned to an old tattered hat that sat on his neatly organized desk. Griffin and I exchanged looks. His patting me on the back reassured me.

"I'll go first, Pippin."

Griffin straightened up and walked toward the Minister. The Professor picked up the hat and gently placed it on top of Griff's head. Was this the sorting process? I wondered. What was going to happen?

"Ah, a Weasley." The hat moved with human-like characteristics. A mouth had formed in one of the folds of the fabric. "You seem different from the others, though." The hat stopped, seeming to think about his decision. "I know! Hufflepuff!"

An involuntary snort escaped me at the name. Everyone in the room cut their eyes at me- my eyes trying to avoid their glares.

"Excellent, Mr. Weasley. Hufflepuffs are extremely loyal and determined. Nothing to be ashamed of." Dumbledore's voice was firm and proud. He removed the hat and shook Griffin's hand, congratulating him again.

"Your turn, young lady." Dumbledore nodded to me. I walked slowly to him. My heartbeat was in my ears while a lump navigated its way into my throat. I closed my eyes as the light heap of cloth was placed on my head.

"Hmmm. You're an odd one." I felt the garment move as it spoke. "Not the same."

I looked over to Dumbledore who looked at the hat with growing curiosity. The hat was silent for a moment.

"I know right where you belong, girl. Slytherin!"

The hat was snatched off of my head. Silence cut through the room. I looked to Arthur and the Minister, Arthur's eyes permanently fixed to the floor and the Minister gazing at his feet. I turned my face to Dumbledore, seeing his weak smile. My throat suddenly ran dry. It was my worst fear. The House everyone apparently hated and I was stuck in it. My voice cracked, squeaking out my uncomfortable words.

"Is that bad?"

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I have soooo much planned for this! Ugh! I just can't type it fast enough!**

**Love you!**

**-Grenn**


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